Second Baptism
by LeakySneakyOprichniki
Summary: It's impossible for anyone to breathe on their own underwater. A Case of Shera


The water that drummed down from the sputtering tap above her stained hands was hot by now. Shera brushed her sweat slicked bangs from her forehead with the side of her greasy forearm. Steam plumed up from the scratchy dip of the sink basin and fogged over the crackling of the bathroom mirror. She sighed to herself; in partial contentment and hard earned fatigue. She was so close to getting one of the old generators running again. Having at least two large scale converters going for the town would satisfy her.

Cid had been there to help her with most of the heavy lifting. She had collected enough donations from the town to totally replace the engine with a newer, functioning one along with a few other important component parts. It was tiring, and fairly messy with the grime that had built up in the hunk of junk over ages of disuse, but she hadn't bonded with her housemate like that in a long while . More than her arms, palms, and knuckles ached. When Cid was in the mood, he was quite the jokester and had become skilled in the past year in making Shera laugh.

She pulled the edge of her bottom lip between her teeth in an attempt to tame the grin that was forming on her face. Cid...it was funny how much things had changed since he'd returned home. They had gotten over the loss of the rocket, and the hard brick wall that prevented them from genuinely getting to know one another was dismantled piece by piece . Sometimes, it was hard to believe. She could regularly dub herself his... _girlfriend_. Odd indeed. Shera felt too old to feel this bubbly.

Humming, Shera reached for a fresh bar of soap in an upper cabinet and lowered her palms to the near scorching water. She flicked caked up carbon from beneath her nails and allowed the steady pelt to trickle between her digits. She frowned briefly at the chipping of her nail polish, and placed the bar of soap aside to scrub her arms and face, and then rinse the puffy, oil greyed suds down the dark void of the drain. Shera repeated the process once, then twice; her clean up just as thorough as her work. She had a few leftover oil stains peppering the back of her hands, but that was usually how it worked. They'd go away eventually.

"Shera! Where'dja go?!" Cid's voice filled the house from the bottom floor. She could hear him pad from the garage door, and cross the hardwood to the kitchen.

"I'm up here! I'll be down in a moment!" Shera called back to him while taking a towel to dry her face. The bathroom light was flicked off, and she closed the door behind her upon leaving for the stairs. Obnoxious chirping from the house phone began halfway through her descent. Partially recognizing the number, she watched as Cid dirtied the hand held with his oil blotched hands and click it on to answer.

"Captain's quarters'." He grunted.

"Who is it?" Shera quietly mouthed. She was only asking because Cid's expression immediately soured (he had no idea who they were).

"Yeah, jus' a sec." Cid took the phone from his ear. "It's for you." He offered it to Shera, and opened up the kitchen sink's tap when she took it from him. She burned little holes in Cid's back because he really wasn't supposed to be using the _kitchen_ sink to wash_ oil _from his hands, but couldn't pester him about it because she already had the phone speaker beneath her bangs and pressed to her ear.

"Shera Joules, speaking." Shera anticipated hearing the concerned chatter of one the residents, asking about maintenance on the town's currently functioning generator. Honestly, it was all the calls she was receiving as of late.

"Shera."

The sound of her mother's voice almost stilled her breathing. Shera was so caught off guard that it took her several moments to remember that she was supposed to respond. "Kaikamahine, Shera, hello?"

"Yes, Ma'am…?" Shera took a deep breath to still the sputter in her heart beat. She dragged a chair out from under the kitchen table and pressed out the wrinkles in the patchy, green floor rug with her bare feet. Shera swallowed a wad of anxiousness. She hadn't spoken to her mother since Meteor Fall. There must have been something wrong.

Cid blew a sharp breath from his nostrils and splashed a bit of water along the sides of the kitchen sink to clear the mess he left behind. His hands were still stained after washing them with industrial dish soap, but he was satisfied with his own clean up for now. He was waiting for Shera to get off the phone so he could one: ask what was for dinner, and two: be nosy and prod at who it was that called her.

He slowly turned from the counter when he realized something odd; nose scrunched, teeth partially exposed, and brows heavily furrowed. Cid stuck his smallest finger in his ear and twisted. Okay, no dirt. He was hearing correctly. Shera sat side saddle in one of the wooden kitchen chairs, speaking very, very expeditiously into the phone receiver in a language that he had never heard before in his life. She looked a little troubled, and was rambling on in some sort of thick indescribable accent that sounded nothing like the voice he'd come to know her with. What... the fuck…?

"Okay," finally, something he could understand "love you, bye." Shera mumbled her regards and stood to dampen a dish towel and pat off the dirt from the phone. Cid could tell that her mood had shifted, and wasn't sure of what to make of it.

"Ain't know you were bilingual." The Captain stared; shocked almost.

"Oh…" Shera snapped out of the fog she was momentarily in and passed Cid to place the phone back on the hook. "sometimes I forget I am." She awkwardly cleared her throat. "No one really speaks it in this region. I'm very rusty."

Squinting, Cid kept thinking of all the times he had inquired of where Shera was from. He always assumed Correl when Shera neglected to answer, but now he wasn't so sure. "Who were ya talkin' to?" He took a dish towel to dry his hands. Shera could tell he was trying to decipher the stress that had settled into her features.

"That was my mother. She was just calling to let me know." Shera didn't finish the statement. She turned on the light over the stove top and began taking out items in preparation for an evening meal.

"Know what?" Maybe there was something up between them?

"Nothing important." Shera answered in a false sing-song voice. She pretended she wasn't bothered until it was time to get ready for bed.

TV turned off, lights out, doors locked, and last calls made, Shera followed after Cid up the stairs and to his bedroom door. She slipped inside; nearly bumping into her housemate when he paused to yank off his shirt and toss it away in a pile of dirty clothes on the floor. "You really should clean up in here." She quietly suggested. Clicking her tongue, Shera collected some of the clothing he had scattered on the floor and folded them into the neglected clothes hamper off in a corner near his dresser.

"Bah! It ain't all that dirty." Cid retorted with a yawn. He yanked off his goggles and looped them on the front end of his headboard. He sat at the edge of his creaking mattress to remove his socks and pants. "Wouldja get off my ass? Said I was gonna get aroun' to tidying it up. Just haven't had the time."

"I don't even want to turn the light on in here." If she did, she was sure she'd be able to see all the dust better. Pursing her lips, Shera took one of Cid's ashtrays from the top of a machinery box and dumped the powdery pile in a small bedroom trashcan. "I might sleep in my own room tonight." Shera teased. She'd been sleeping with Cid in his bed so often that she no longer had to ask if he minded, and he no longer had to request.

"Aw, c'mon," Cid stood; tugging on the tape plastered to the side of his forehead "don' be like that." His voice was in her ear. Cid was hovering over her shoulder; trying to get in close enough to press his lips to her neck.

"I'd help you clean it, but I'll be busy this week." Shera's eyes fluttered closed. She deeply exhaled through parted lips. She didn't move from where she stood for a long while. "I have a lot of work to do." And it seemed as if she would had to choose whether or not she was going to take off to travel soon as well.

"Hey…" Cid took a steady hold of her wrist. He could sense her mood sway and quiver like the tremor of water after an earthquake. He wondered what magnitude her mother's phone call was. "You alright, Shera?"

"I'm fine, Cid." She reassured him with an affectionate pat on his hairy forearm. "Just a little tired."

He ceased his pestering for now, though, he didn't fully believe her. "I'm gonna hop in the shower…okay?" Cid's tone of voice left the statement open. He was hoping that Shera would want to join.

"Okay." She passively turned down the unspoken offer when she took to the bed, removed her glasses, undressed, and crawled under his bed sheets. Shera felt a little guilty. Cid grumbled all by his lonesome to the bathroom. She just really didn't want to leave any more room for conversation. Cid wasn't extremely curious, or concerned by nature, but when he was, he was persistent.

Puffing out her cheeks in an attempt to settle the anxiety quivering the lining of her stomach, Shera pushed a rumpled pillow beneath her head. She was met with lingering wafts of Cid's scent from the worn, cotton fabric. It was soothing enough. Tired hazel eyes drifted closed with the effort to suppress her thoughts. Time passed and his bedroom grew darker. The distant sound of water pelting tile was gone. Cid had spooned up behind her in bed before she had a chance to register his return and tell him goodnight.

* * *

Much more time had passed before Shera's eyes drifted open again. The very edges of her limited vision were hazed in a stinging fog. She kept trying to focus them on the darkness of her surroundings, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't blink the eerie blur away. She came to realize that she wasn't fully awake yet; mind only a few steps ahead of her body. She opened her mouth to call out Cid's name for help, only to discover that her voice refused to break the surface. Stay calm, Shera...calm.

Hollow, ambiguous static crackled in her inner ears. The rush of water followed; filling her head with turbulent waves till it ached and sloshed behind her eyes. The world was swaying, tossing her back and forth until motionary confusion made her seasick. _Why was it becoming so much harder for her to breathe?_ Her throat gurgled and her windpipe began to constrict and burn; an unbearable pressure weighing down on the expand and contract of her lungs. A looming, almost smothering presence flooded every crevice and submerged her in a viscous vat of dread. Shera struggled to attempt another call for Cid, anyone, _please_ _help._

The were reaching for her. Shera could feel it. The dread she experienced was so overpowering that she thought that the hand of death was lowering to permanently still her heart. A calculatory touch. Fingertips so cold they were searing spits, traced slow, meticulous lines from the soles of her feet, to her calves, up the curve of her thigh and over her hip, ghosting the flat plane of her belly and the gully of her chest, and ended their torture at the base of her collar.

It was still for a while. Waiting. All the pain was being sucked down the drain leaving Shera numb.

And then they claimed her hand without warning. She snapped up with a jolt and screeched; clutching her wrist with gritted teeth and hot tears in her eyes, because it felt like it had been sliced right off of her body.

* * *

Cid's eyes were wide and face drained of color in apprehension. A handgun was tightly clutched in his fist; turning his knobby knuckles white. The first rays of morning light drifted in from a nearby bedroom window and illuminated the fierceness of glinting fight or flight in his irises. Shera had scared every manner of hell out of him with her scream. Color was finally returning to his cheeks. Cid stared at her for a long, long while.

"What the fuck are you screamin' for?" He finally spoke.

Shera opened her mouth to answer. "I," her voice cracked and she paused to clear the grit her shriek left behind "it was just a dream." Shera resurfaced to reality and fiercely shook the staleness of drowning from her sinuses. "I'm so sorry I scared you."

Cid slowly lowered his gun back down to the bottom of his bedside drawer. He tapped the compartment closed with his knee and warily scratched the stubble of his chin. The Captain had never known his partner to have nightmares. By the nervousness that contorted her face, he could tell it must have been a pretty bad one...and well...she screamed like she was being murdered. He had been more than ready to shoot an intruder dead. "You gonna be alright?"

"I'll be fine. I...I think." Shera groped for her glasses and perched them up on the bridge of her nose. She placed her hand on her head to still the dense pounding there. Her heart felt just as heavy. "Just a bad dream."

* * *

The rest of the morning followed with Cid somewhat tip toeing around Shera's mood. He kept subtle tabs on her while working with other volunteer mechanics in a make shift warehouse erected at the very edge of Rocket Town. The Captain couldn't imagine she'd gotten a full night's rest. He could tell in the way her yawns weren't quite yawns, and her sighs were drenched in fine coatings of her over thinking. What about though…? She was fine all day yesterday. Cid chewed the inside of his cheek and shoved a white core pencil beneath the strap of his goggles. Shera had been tinkering away on one of her projects. _Had_ been. Now, she was just staring into space. Cid knew what that meant.

Metal legs obnoxiously scraped the concrete work floor. Cid left his own revisionary schematics on a separate high bench, and pulled up a stool next to Shera's. He poised a desk light out of the way of her face and drew her attention by clearing his throat. "So," he chose to lower his voice so others working around them couldn't poke their noses in her business "when the hell you gonna tell me what's up?" One of his blond brows arched; expecting an honest answer.

Shera deeply sighed. She yanked off her gloves after placing a set of allen wrenches aside, and rubbed tiredness from her eyes with her wrist. His partner was quiet; trying to think of the best way to explain. "I might have to go out of town. My mother called last night because she needs me to visit."

_Ah._

"You don' wanna see her?" Cid removed his working gloves and dumped them on top of hers. He propped his elbow up on her bench and laid his chin on the back of his hand.

"Of course I want to see her. It's just…" Shera pressed her full lips into a tight line "I think I know what she wants me to visit for. The reason could be...potentially unpleasant. I've been nervous in debating if I should go at all."

"If she's gonna make you do somethin' you don't wanna do, then don't go." Cid shrugged. "Probably not worth your effort if it's gonna be like that."

Shera's brows knitted. She looked Cid in his eyes. "It's a little more complicated than that. I'd prefer not-"

"Look, babe, if it's personal, you ain't got tell me all the nitty gritty details. I just want to know if you're gonna be alright. Go if you want to go. You've been workin' too hard these days anyway. Town ain't gonna burn down if you take some time off to visit yer' Mama." Cid reached over and twisted a component in the part she was working on. It came right off. "You were screwin' this on wrong." He placed it in her open hand.

"I see." Shera squeezed it, and then stuffed the section down in her lab coat pocket. "I'll continue to think about it. I don't have to go right away."

"Whatever floats the boat." Cid looked overhead to check the time on the facility clock. "It's lunch time, Sher Devil." He leaned in so he could use one of her nicknames without being caught. Cid pinched at the scrunched bit of space between Shera's eyes and gently dragged her head back and forth. "Giiiiiive your aaaaass a breeeeak."

"I'll take a break if you pay." She tried to hide her growing grin.

* * *

The local diner a few blocks down was a welcomed change in scenery and routine. As of late, Shera had gotten in the habit of skipping right over her lunches. Not wanting to doom herself to afternoon sluggishness, she settled on a lighter meal from the menu and momentarily excused herself to the bathroom. Cid was lighting a cigarette in the smoking section where they were seated before she slunk off to the back.

"He won't be able to make it next week I think." A conversation was going on when she entered the women's room and claimed the nearest stall.

"How come?!" The responder was pouting.

"He said his girlfriend was sick or something." Obnoxious racket from a paper towel dispenser cut through their chat. "He had to stay with her in Edge because she was convulsing. Probably ate something bad."

"Damn! That sucks. Hope she feels better."

"Me, too. I hear some bug has been going around." The conversation was distant after the door swung open, and then closed.

Shera finished her use of the dingy little partition, and skirted past an older lady waiting to take her place. She made her way over to the sink to wash her hands. When the water was hot, she pressed a generous amount of hand soap into her palm in an attempt to hurry along the process of the oil splotches fading from the back of her hands. The stain had lightened from one, but the other, no such luck. Probably wasn't much of a point. She'd have a new stain by the end of the day. Oh well. Shera left the bathroom and reseated herself back at the table.

"Ah, what a load of shit." Cid was chewing on the filter of his cigarette; pointedly watching a small TV above the diner's front bar.

"What is?" Shera noticed her water had been placed on the table, took it, and sucked down a generous amount through the straw. She followed Cid's line of sight to the TV and squinted behind the lenses of her glasses to read the small print of the headline.

"Got a fuckin' PSA for hygiene now? Un-fuckin'-believable. People are flippin' their shit over some 'sickness' goin' around in Midgar." The Captain smothered his cigarette in a nearby ashtray; blowing a final puff of the smelly tobacco exhaust through his nostrils.

"I just heard someone talking about it." Shera frowned; though, she perked up when their food was making its way over on the shoulders of a careful waitress. "What sort of sickness is it?"

"Don't know. Looks like folks have been trying to figure it out before it gets out of control." The television didn't hold Cid's attention for very long. He rubbed his hands in anticipation and reached for his silverware when a hearty helping of pancakes (two additional pancakes as his topping of choice) were placed down in front of him.

"I hope they do figure it out. Some of your friends live near Midgar, don't they?" Shera selected a spoon and dug into a steaming bowl of the lunch special.

"Yeah. Pretty boy's been churnin' out some sort of business around those parts, and Tifa's been tryin' to set up another bar. They ain't sick though, as far as I know." Cid's speech was partially muffled by the fork in his mouth. He had poured maple syrup over his pancakes until they were dark and sopping.

"I imagine people have been crawling out of the rubble and congesting the area again. I'm sure it'll clear up as soon as things officially settle."

"Probably." Cid looked up from his meal to find that Shera was more so pecking around her soup bowl than actually eating. "What if I went with ya."

"Pardon…?" Shera's head slowly rose from her mental limbo. She pulled what little she had on her spoon from her mouth and thickly swallowed.

"I mean, so you ain't goin' alone. I'll go with ya if you need me to." Cid guzzled half his mug of coffee. He was averting his eyes.

Oh, he meant…

"Ah...um, w-well…" Shera blinked; tongue tied because she was unsure of what to say to, or make of Cid's generosity. The idea of the comfort he would probably bring in being there was appealing, but there were things she preferred for no one to know. When Shera visited her mother, it was rude to stay anywhere else but her home (absolutely no hotel). And her mother of course, was an issue in itself. Shera knew that Cid would probably make her nervous. Grapes on the vine, and honestly, her own accounts of her housemate's behavior, had given her mother a very bad impression. There had been a time when Mother Joules called her daughter's phone frequently to affirm her safety.

"It's like you said. People are still patchin' shit up anyways. Wouldn't feel right if you went all off on your own. No offense or anythin', but you don't think straight when you've got emotional junk cluttering your brain."

How...perceptive of him. Shera preoccupied her mouth with another sip from her glass. Leaving nothing but ice, and a sputtering straw. "Would you get off my ass?" She smacked her lips, and tilted her head while mimicking Cid's tone of voice from last night.

He rubbed syrup from his chin with the pad of his thumb. The Captain responded with a rather sharp grin.

Shera rolled her eyes and dipped her spoon in her bowl again. "Okay. I'd like for you to come with me." She finally decided. "I'll have to warn you, though..."

"Of what…?"

* * *

As much as Shera tried to notify residents in Rocket Town ahead of time that she was taking a brief break ( and that _please _no one call her), she still received plenty of messages and voicemails. She pulled out her cellular after having a chance to stretch the stinging and twitching from her legs, and cringed at the numbers plastered over her inbox. She loved _and _hated being in charge of things.

"Just about done securin' er' up!" Cid called from the left wing of the plane he had rented. He gave it one last check over, climbed down, and scanned the unfamiliar surroundings. They had unloaded their bags onto a dusk kissed marina. The water worn docks stretched outward to the thick shade of a crisp beach. It was a small, crescent shaped island in a hidden archipelago of atolls and inlets far off from the mainland of Costa Del Sol. Palm Cove, it was called, or something of the sort. Cid had never been here before, and almost had trouble finding it. Probably wouldn't have without Shera's direction.

"This is the right spot. There are dock walkers that usually watch over the private planes and boats at night. The rental will be safe here." Shera took a seat down on a post of the dock railing. She passed a steady exhale through her parted lips. She could usually stand long trips, but this one left her feeling particularly fatigued. Shera absently rubbed the quivering of muscle beneath the skin of her dominant hand. At the very least, she was told there'd be a meal waiting for her...er, them...whenever they should make it to her mother's home.

"I'll take your word for it." Cid squinted the setting sun from his eyes. He hoisted up one of his bags from the creaking planks of the doc and slung it over his shoulder. The Captain pressed his goggles up from his eyes and re-secured them on his forehead. He made sure his pack of cigarettes were firmly in place, and then reached to take one of Shera's bags. He gave her a curious glance over. She looked troubled as ever. "You gonna lead the way?"

"Yes, if you're sure you don't want to take a break. Remember what I was telling you about before we left, Captain?" Shera rose to her feet and took her own bag from him. She placed the padded strap over her shoulder and walked ahead after double checking their authorized docking pass.

"What again?" Cid had jumped into assistance without really thinking about it. Sure, he had enough cushion in his so called 'schedule' to hold off meeting with Reeve about finalizations on his newest airship, and he didn't have to conjure up alternative fuel for the damn thing just yet, but he didn't take into account that Shera's hometown would be new territory. He didn't know what to expect, or if the few days away would be really long, or really short ones. Eh, things would be fine. That is what he had assured her in offering his company, right?

"The house is up higher along the cove. It's a bit of a hiking path. You'll see." Shera was already mentally preparing herself for the last leg of the journey.

"Fuck..." Cid could see what she was talking about. There were small island homes nestled in thickets of lush growth a long ways away, and a long ways up. Wooden and stone paths zig-zagged in accessible patterns, separating the more private, upper nooks from the beach front houses and moderately bustling inner town. "Why's she live all the fuckin' way up there?!" Just looking made Cid a little winded.

"She likes to perch herself up high." Shera chuckled and shook her head. "Come on, pack mule. Are you getting old?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means hurry up, or our dinner will get cold."

* * *

"Shit!" Cid regained his balance at just the right moment. In the dark, he couldn't see, but when the porch light snapped on, he could clearly spot the nail that had snubbed the hard toe of his boot. He stood upright with feet firmly planted on the mat covering the front porch of their destination, and craned his head to view how far up they had come. The sight over the chipping rail of the porch and sway of banana leaves was extraordinary. Small, but quiet, the sea twinkled under the light of the rising moon. The island was calmed by the stippling of other soft, russet porch lights in distant bundles of island trees and plants. The still busy town was it's own cluster of colors and distant sounds. Cid could see why Shera's mother had nested herself here. He whistled. Pretty damn good view.

The porch door finally creaked open after the click and shuckle of locks. Shera greeted her mother with a smile and a hello in the language Cid didn't understand, and momentarily placed her bag down to have full use of her arms. He stepped out of the way while they hugged.

Shera's Mama was not what he had been expecting either. From what he could see under the light provided by the porch bulb, Mother Joules was a tall, sturdy looking, toffee toned woman with densely curly, greying brown hair pulled back in a yellow hibiscus print bandana. Cid could see all of the freckles that dotted her cheeks when she pulled away from the dip of Shera's shoulder, and just so happened to meet his eyes. They were a cracking, cat like green, and widened as if noticing him there for the very first time. He might have scared her half to death. She made a high pitched noise of surprise in acknowledging him. Cid pulled out of the shadow of the trees over the porch and offered a short wave.

Ah, hell. He could bet his bottom gil that Shera didn't fucking tell her she was bringing a guest.

Clearing her throat, Shera dipped down to take up her travel bag again. "Maku, this is Captain Highwind." She side stepped to allow room for them to be properly introduced. "I don't think you two have ever met."

"I don't believe so." Ms. Joules was a little slow to offer her hand to Cid's. "I'm sure you know of me." He noted her shake was a firm one. Firm like her voice.

"It's ah, nice to meet ya." Cid didn't know if he was supposed to stand at attention or salute. Her wise eyes were scanning him like a sergeant.

"Please, come inside and make yourselves comfortable. I've got a pot of strips and dumplings on the stove that's still hot if you're hungry." Ms. Joules left her wedged flip-flops on the mat and motioned for both Cid and Shera to shuffle on in. "You'll have to excuse the mess."

The television was on in the living room; all manners of inner circuitry and computer parts laid out in organized rows on the carpeted portion of the floor. Multicolored marina lighting hung from the solid wooden beams of the ceiling and glinted off of the numerous picture frames, and sand filled vases around the furniture of the house. The air was thick with the smell of baked dough and broth. Cid ignored the snarl of his stomach, and wondered where he could place his bag until he was told where he'd be sleeping.

"Oh my God. The scientists didn't say it was possible." Shera's affectionate coo drew the Captain away from his scan of the interior. An...obese...black cat tucked like a bunt in a bed near an old recliner mewled, and then waddled up in a hurry to greet Shera like an old friend. Chai wasn't this fat when she left. "How do you not have your own satellite?" Shera knew better than to lift him. She reached down to glide her palm over his arching back and scratch beneath his chin.

Cid bit his tongue to keep from saying anything. Moisture briefly welled in his eyes. Fattest fucking cat he had ever seen. It looked like an over stuffed pillow cushion with legs and a tail. He would have said it out loud if he didn't know to be on his best behavior. "Your cat?" He asked Ms. Joules. In the time he had been looking around; she had padded away without warning and entered the kitchen to remove dinner bowls from cupboards.

"Yes. He's old and doesn't favor much movement." Her response was curt. "Shera, the air mattress is under the bed in your room. He can take it."

"Thank you." Shera dipped her head in appreciation, though she didn't plan to drag it out for Cid later. She tugged the strap of his glove and Cid took it as a sign that he was meant to follow her up a set of stairs. "She always that stiff?" He muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Shera to hear.

"Stiff?" Shera murmured back. "I suppose. She's probably just a little irritated."

"You ain't tell her I was comin'?" Cid watched Shera's hand hover above the knob to the last door down a short hall upstairs.

"No...I didn't. She would have been much more particular if I did." She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and swiveled around to bashfully face him.

"Okay…?" Weird. What the hell was she waiting for?

"Don't laugh." Shera very slowly twisted the door open and poked her head through the crack. She opened it wider and sifted through her memory for the proper, clumsy path to take to her bedside lamp in the dark. There were glow in the dark star stickers speckling the low ceiling when Cid instinctively looked up. More marina lights (though they weren't turned on), and swaying planetary paper lanterns. He really hoped that Shera didn't cling to pink when she was younger, or this would get really awkward, really fast.

"Ah-ha!" She hissed. "Let there be light."

_Thank god._ Much to Cid's relief, the room didn't have any particular color scheme. He chucked his bag down on a closed storage trunk before the foot of a freshly made, queen sized bed. Cid squinted at the (not overly girly) pattern of the bedspread. A quilt, it appeared, of constellations and other named star clusters. He could point out a few without having to read the printing. He glanced up to where Shera was plugging in her phone for charging with curiously bunched brows. Shera's lamp light was the moon. He had the very same lamp in his room when he was a snot nosed brat. The Captain took it all in, and the sensation was beyond strange.

"Am I sleepin' with you, Shera?"

"Yes, there's enough room for the both of us here." She pulled the yellow band from her hair, and tucked her travel bag in a corner next to a work desk. Shera walked off to see if the private bathroom in her room was clean, before coming back to close the curtains over a cushioned bay seat and window. She slipped off her boots and wriggled her toes in the carpet; just sitting there for a while.

"It's been ages." Shera sighed to herself.

"Since what?" Cid removed his flight jacket and loosened the knot from the scarf around his neck. He was still passively scanning the inside of Shera's old bedroom after taking a seat at the edge of her bed.

"Since I've been here." A musing smile briefly formed on Shera's face, but it was smothered a very short moment later. Something else was forming in her mood; leaving her hazel eyes glassy behind the glare in her glasses. She rubbed her nose with her knuckle. "I'll show you around, and then we can join her again in the kitchen for dinner. Just, make yourself at home."

Eventually, the evening trickled into a steady late night. The television in the living room was a muffled background in their dwindling conversation. It was all somewhat cordial. What have you been up to? How is this? How is that? Cid didn't acknowledge it, but he figured they were beating around the bush just because he was present. Wasn't any of his business; he reminded himself. Stretching out the kinks in his back, he retired when he was given his cue. He got the inkling Shera's mother didn't like him much anyway. She avoided eye contact and tended to neglect to answer his casual questions. He had a word for that, but of course, he was supposed to be on his best behavior.

"I'm just going to help her clean up in the kitchen, Cid. I'll head to bed as soon as we're done." Shera's smile was a fake one. He could tell. The kiss goodnight wasn't fake, though. She caught his lips before he could turn for the stairs and it was reassuring for them both.

"I'll call ya if I need anything." He kissed her temple behind the corner of the railing, loped back up the stairs past the first landing, and was out of sight.

Shera waited for the sound of her closing door. It creaked after the cease of Cid's footsteps. Mustering the last reserve of her energy, Shera padded into the kitchen and took to her mother's side at the sink. Pulling her fingers out of her shower damp hair, she hoisted washed dishes from the other side of the sink and took it upon herself to begin drying them.

"You could have warned me." Ms. Joules pursed her lips. She placed the inner shell of a freshly washed crock-pot down on the counter to air dry.

"I was hoping you wouldn't mind. He's not any harm, really." Shera swayed on her bare soles. She lifted her knee and rubbed the goose bumps on her calf with the top of her opposite foot.

"He's the one you've been living with, correct?" Shera's mother lifted her hands from sloshing suds. There wasn't anything left, so she pulled the plug and allowed the murky water to drain.

"Yes, for a couple of years now." She took the bowls she had dried from the counter and paced to the windowed kitchen cabinets to place them away. "We've been making a lot of progress, I think."

Ms. Joules assumed she meant the town. "I hear things about it every now and again from people visiting from the mainland. I'm glad they have you." There was a dense pause in the conversation. Shera drew open a pantry door in search of the broom to sweep the floor.

"You didn't pull out the air mattress for him?" Ms. Joules was wiping excess water from the counter tops. She folded a damp rag aside when she was done and placed her hands up on her hips.

"No." Here we go.

Her mother's head inquisitively quirked to the side. "Are you leaving him with Chai down here on the couch?"

Shera shook her head. "No, he's staying with me in my bed upstairs."

Ms. Joules' expression twisted, but at least it wasn't absolute disapproval. Not that it really mattered. "Have I missed something, Sheraton?" The look in her eyes was one of disbelief.

Shera stuck out her tongue at her mother's use of her _thoroughly _disliked full name. "I'm more than his assistant." Her smile, still fake. Her laugh, an awkward one.

"Why?" Ms. Joules' face tensed in confusion. "Should I be concerned? Shera," she switched languages mid thought "_you've told me of how he's hurt you. Is he hurting you now?_" She had hoped, when wounds were still raw, that her daughter would leave the fire breather of a man she was chained to, and come back home.

Shera kept her eyes focused on the soft sandal wood of the floor. She had collected an acceptable pile of dirt and distracted herself with looking for the dustpan. "Mama, Cid may look and sometimes act mean, but he's a big teddy bear." Her tone was scolding. "He's here because he didn't want me to travel alone. Trust me for once."

"Fine. But if he-"

"Don't start." Shera boldly cut her off. "With all due respect, _Cid is not like that_."

Her mother's nostrils twitched and her facial expression narrowed. She licked her teeth with a closed mouth and sunken cheeks. She raised her bent arms from her sides and crossed them beneath her bust. "If you say so."

Shera dumped the pile away in a trashcan and closed the curtains to the outside patio. She glanced at her mother's hands out of instinct. The knuckle she had watched her nibble on out of habitual nervousness when she was a little girl was reddened and raw. It was like her mother had a way of transferring her stress; whatever it was. Right...down to business.

"Mama, why am I here?"

Ms. Joules gently tugged the bandana from her hair and wadded it in her hand. Her shoulders sank with the expelling of a sigh that was more of a dreadful huff than anything else. She rubbed her chin with scarred fingers while collecting her thoughts. "He wants to see you."

"Who?" Shera tucked a portion of her bangs behind her ear.

"He wants to see you." Her mother repeated; avoiding direct eye contact.

"_Who_?"

"The bastard that..." Ms. Joules cringed and retracted her tone. She raised her knuckle to her lips; pressing the edges of her front teeth into the creases.

This...this was exactly what she thought it was about. She didn't expect the whole scenario to go this way, though. Shera opened her mouth, and deja vu chilled the beating of her heart with icy anxiety. Her voice refused to allow her to respond for a tense moment.

"...when?"

"I don't know. He's not allowed near me. He can't come here."

"Why does he want to see me?"

_"I don't know."_

* * *

Cid's soft snore was the first thing to greet her when she finally made it up the stairs, and slipped behind her bedroom door. The cool white light from her lamp gingerly outlined the appealing bareness of his back, and the messy blond mop of his hair. The window had been opened in her absence. Shera shook her head. He must have smoked a cigarette before lying down, and forgot to close it.

Rubbing goose flesh from her arms, Shera snapped the bay window closed, crossed the carpet, and crawled up on the plane of bed Cid didn't preoccupy. She warily reached over to turn off the light, but paused. Her hand fell. She gazed at the relax in his sleeping face. He looked five years younger. Shera gently ran her fingers through his hair, and luckily, Cid didn't stir. "You look silly." She fondly whispered. And he did. It was quite the sight to see him partially wrapped up in her old bedspread.

Shera removed her glasses and placed them aside on a side drawer. She pressed off the light and burrowed herself under the warmth of Cid's arm under the covers. Shera swung one leg over his hip and nuzzled her head beneath her partner's chin. He drew her close in his sleep.

Shera didn't feel well. At all. But Cid was solid, warm, and comforting so she supposed all of it was bearable.

* * *

"Hey...sleepy. Wake up."

The curtain of Shera's hair obscured Cid's vision. He grunted, squinted with already foggy eyes, and swept some of the tickling strands from his cheeks. He blinked once, then twice; finally remembering where they were. Cid's head lolled to the side and he almost fell asleep again. It didn't help that Shera's method of rousing him were gentle kisses on his neck.

"...five more minutes." He rolled onto his back and deeply yawned.

"I let you sleep in a whole hour, Captain." Shera's fingers were slowly, quietly trotting up his sides. They walked one rib at a time until they were dangerously close to his underarms.

"Don't you fucking dare!" He sat upright immediately; catching Shera's wrists and the dumb grin on her face.

"Do what?" She forged innocence. Shera lurched in an attempt to attack the softness of his waist.

Cid would have pinned her down in retaliation, but there were slight circles under those pretty, forest doe eyes. "Hey, quit fuckin' around. I'm awake." He didn't let her arms go yet because he didn't trust her not to make a fit of obnoxious laughter out of him.

She pulled herself out of his grip. "I'd ask you if you slept well, but you were snoring, so I'll just assume you did." Shera swung her leg out of his lap and sat up on her knees at Cid's side. She was already dressed, having tugged out a breathable t-shirt and shorts, and changed while he was still sleeping.

"Yeah. I slept jus' fine." Cid tossed off the covers and absentmindedly scratched his stomach. "What about you?" Shera looked tired. She was usually good at hiding when she was, but he guessed she was slipping up on her craft.

"Alright." She shrugged. Less than alright, actually. Over thinking unsettling news woke her every other hour. Cid was there, and so was staring blankly at the ceiling. "Are you hungry? Mama and I have already eaten. I would advise you do so before we go out."

"Goin' out where?" Nowhere higher up the cove, hopefully. Hiking last night had been a killer on his poor knees.

"Fishing." Shera leaned her weight into pushing Cid from the bed. He arched his back and stood with a grumble. "Hurry uupppp." She pushed a little harder, poked, and prodded.

Cid meandered through a hot shower, and took his damn time toweling off and selecting clothes. Fishing...he supposed he wouldn't need his flight jacket. He pulled on a dark t-shirt from his travel bag and dug around for a fresh pair of socks. Shera was (im)patiently mucking around her room while waiting for him to finish.

Old thesis papers, some good some bad, were sifted through. Old professor reviewed blueprints were unrolled, then re-rolled, and tucked back in their dusty hiding places. Shera tapped at an old crate of glass blowing supplies, and then another filled with broken computer parts and slightly rusted pieces to power tools.

"I forgot about these!" Shera gasped. When Cid was done strapping up his boots, she had made her way to the bay seat and lifted it to look down in the hidden compartment. She reached in and unearthed several, delicious amber jars of still perfectly edible honey. Hexagonal combs floated along the bottoms with small, wooden dipping sticks.

"That all the honey you used to tell me about?" He tightened the strap of his goggles around his head and stood with a bit of protest from his joints. "I hope you ain't thinkin' about bringin' all of that home." Six small jars wouldn't last more than a month if Shera was the one eating them.

"Yes, but, these stay here. I don't want to eat them, they're too special." Shera placed all of them back, and covered the mason tops with the blankets that had been momentarily pushed aside.

"Won't it go bad?" Cid lingered near the door.

"Honey never spoils." Shera hummed. "Took you long enough."

"Whatever. You act like half the shit you do doesn't take a millennia."

* * *

"I'm a sky captain. Don't ask me a damn thing about the sea." Cid swept smelly, shimmering scales from the dark fabric of his shirt. The fish he had just reeled in and tossed in the basket? Had no clue what it was. Looked good. Shera said it was big enough to eat so he assumed he did pretty alright. Normally, Cid was god awful at fishing. Usually, he never had the patience.

"Fish often?" Ms. Joules was poised up close to an opened port in the marina wood. The late afternoon sun bore into the line of her back. All of them were already forming ugly tan lines.

"Nope." Cid called out from where he stood. Unlike her mother, he and Shera chose to stand up and cast their lines over the rail. Seagulls swooped by. Some residents along the docked boats were throwing out dog food for fish that swam closer to the surface in anticipation of being fed. "The most I've ever reeled up are creek fish back behind the house in Rocket." Cid didn't bother setting bait back on his hook. "She can usually bag more than me, though." He jabbed his thumb in Shera's direction.

"I can say the same. She's always been good at it, haven't you?" Ms. Joules leaned out of the hard daylight. She held a hand to her forehead and peered upward to check the position of the sun.

"Huh?" Shera distractedly yanked something out of the water. "Ugh, stop moving." She clamped her hand around the desperate flailing of a sea bass. The hook was dug out of the side of its gaping mouth. "I don't think I'm good at it. I think I just get lucky." She pulled up a taut rope hanging over the side of the pier; bringing the basket containing their fish out of the water. Shera slipped the bass inside with all of their other keepers, and then lowered it back down to the crystal blue sway below.

"Hell of a lot of luck, then." Cid rolled his shoulders. Good glory. He could feel the sunburn forming on the back of his neck.

"Aw, you flatter me."

"I think those are more than enough for all three of us." Ms. Joules stood with a sigh. She swept her scale riddled palms on the fabric of her capris. "We should pack it up. They'll stop biting when they've run out of pellets to toss over there." She rolled up her line, snipped off her hook with her teeth, and tucked it away in a supply box. Both Cid and Shera followed her lead by disconnecting the sections of their fishing rods.

"Have you ever fished with a net?" Shera gently prodded Cid's side with her elbow. He nudged her back in playfulness. Shera yelped and sank her fingers into his shoulder to keep from being bumped over into the water.

"Shit, my bad!" He caught her waist. Cid looked apologetic, and a little embarrassed. "Nah, wouldn't have a clue how to use one."

"It's not difficult. Calls for more patience than using a line." Ms. Joules watched them with a raised brow. She had already pulled the port shut, and walked over to transfer their fish into a traveling bucket.

"Well, how about fishing with a spear?" Shera steadied herself; gently moving Cid's arm aside.

"Ain't thought of that before." There was a spark in Cid's eyes. He looked like he was considering it.

"I bet you'd have a much easier time with a harpoon, Captain." Shera lent her hand to his forehead to adjust his goggles. "Or maybe a trident." She snickered.

"Didn't I tell you I don't know a fucking thing about the sea?"

"Never too late to learn." Shera was amused. "Come on before Mama leaves us behind."

* * *

Shera carefully sank and the hot water in the tub rose to lap around her bare shoulders. She had to admit. She missed the spacious tub she had grown up with. When she was a girl it was a preposterous amount of room, and even now she had plenty of space to stretch. She wasn't here to dally, and soak, though. She had to wash the salt and sand of the day away.

"Pst. Hey…" Shera rested her chin on the very rim of the tub. Her head lolled to the side and squashed against the warmed, white surface. Cid was partially clothed, seated on the toilet top with his arms crossed over his chest. A full stomach, eyes closed and head tilted back, he looked like he would start snoring at any moment. "Cid...pssst." Shera lifted her hand and flecked water in his direction.

"What?" One blue eye lazily peeled open. He still smelled of salt water and beer from the Marina bar.

"Pass me the soap?" Shera pointed to a box left unopened on the counter.

Cid mumbled something indecipherable, snatched, and popped the cardboard box open. He tossed the fragrant bar Shera's way, and she caught it in her wet hands. She laid back and soaked her towel. "You know, you pick the weirdest places to fall asleep."

"Do not." The Captain's other eye opened. The space between his thighs widened. He scratched beneath his navel with a throaty yawn and nudged off his socks.

"I thought you were in here to be a voyeur." Shera lifted her leg high and curled her toes to strike a suggestive pose. She scrubbed beneath the soft round of her calves and full bottom. The lather from her towel rolled down the soft surface of her healthy skin and swirled on the bathwater surface.

"Not really a voyeur if you know m' here. Wasn't lookin' to be a perv, but you know, now I'm a little in the mood." Cid sat up. "Scoot over."

"Scoot over? You can't share with me if that's what you want." Shera lifted her other leg and scrubbed over her knees.

"Why the hell not?!"

"That would be twice the dirt. You can take your own bath after me." Shera laughed because he was pouting. She ran her towel over her breasts and shoulders; moving languidly in an attempt to tantalize him.

"You ain't even playin' fair." It placed a peculiar sting in Shera's belly to watch Cid unbuckle his belt and pull down the zipper. He chucked his green cargo pants to the bathroom floor and took a seat on the edge of the tub. "C'mon, scoot over."

"Nope." She tried pushing him off with the pad of her foot. Shera scrubbed the last bits of her previous oil stains from her arms. She worked the thick lather into her left hand. The blotches pilled away with a mild amount of grime.

"Shera!" Cid tried to move her manually. He reached down in the tub to tug at her knees and drag her to the side. She fidgeted with a small, distracted grin.

"Sh! You'll wake my mother." She wagged her finger back and forth while clicking her tongue. "If I'm dirty, I know for certain that you are." Shera stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry. She lifted her other foot and pushed his arm away while attempting to scrub her right hand clean. Dirt lifted, but the odd stain remained. Shera dunked her hand under the water and eventually lost her little game with Cid in her distraction. He had already tossed off his underwear and slipped in behind her before she could regain attention and shove him back out.

"You're goin' to rub yourself raw." Cid smugly settled with arms laid out against the bath tile.

Shera huffed. "It won't come out." She twisted on her side and smacked Cid across the back of his neck with her towel. He yowled. She'd gotten him right over his aching sunburn.

"You're so noisy, Cid. You're going to get us both in trouble." Shera pulled her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from cackling.

"You fuckin'-" He hissed.

"What was that?"

"I said you probably need a salve. What were you workin' with? Iron primer?" He gnashed his teeth. Cid had a mind to pinch her somewhere painful.

"I don't really remember. It's deep in the skin. I can't get it to rub out" Shera lifted her hand for a brief examination. "It's been weeks now."

"You try slapping some mineral oil on it?" Cid draped one of his arms around her waist. He was touching her neck and ears with bothersome fingers.

"I tried that." Shera sighed. She laid herself over Cid's chest. Her wet hair plastered to his shoulder. "I just assumed it would go away on its own, but I suppose not." Shera's nose scrunched while she continued to look it over. Had...it gotten bigger? "Cid, you stink."

"Fuck you, too."

Stepping out of the bathroom after cleaning up their mess was...awkward to say the least. Ms. Joules was at the foot of Shera's bed folding new towels and their fresh-out-the dryer set of arrival clothes. She didn't even look up. Her mother hadn't gone to sleep just yet like Shera had assumed. Her and her partner were both wet and flustered. Obviously, they had fooled around in the tub after dinner. She didn't say a word.

"G-goodnight." Shera caught her before she could exit.

"_Mm hm_…" Ms. Joules was out of sight down the stairs.

Cid stopped clutching the towel he had bunched around his waist. He scratched at one of his sideburns to alleviate some of the discomfort he felt. That could have been way worse. "Uh."

"You should put some pants on." Shera padded around in nothing but her underwear to Cid's travel bag. She thieved one of his shirts from the bottom, stuffed it on, and crawled up over her side of the bed.

"No shit, yeesh." The Captain tugged an invisible collar. "She already can't stand me." He muttered and yanked a pair of clean underwear up his thighs.

Shera paused her bed burrowing with an inquisitive squint and frowned in Cid's direction. "What gave you that impression." She grew still for a while. Everything from last night, from years, was filling her head again and squashing the calm she had been building up all day. Just like that.

"She's icy as hell, alright." Cid glanced at the closed door, and then met Shera's eyes. "I heard her being pretty damn cold to you, too." His voice lowered.

Shera almost seemed hurt. "She doesn't dislike you, Cid. You just...make her nervous." She scratched at the tense itch that attacked the back of her hand. Her legs slipped under the cover and Shera turned out the light after Cid lumbered over to lie down next to her.

"Why would I make her nervous? I ain't done anything." She could tell he was irritated by the tone of his voice.

"She warms up if you give her time. And for the record," Shera drew the covers over her shoulders "she isn't cold."

"Then what wouldja call that?" Because again, Cid had the perfect word. He didn't get what her problem was.

"Hurt."

It was quiet. His brows furrowed. Cid was searching Shera's eyes in the dark. He slowly sat up again. Moisture was welling; turning deep hazel glassy. He was horrified when he heard the first pained _hick_. Way to fucking go Highwind.

"Shera...shit...I didn't mean-"

She shook her head and cleared the sharp sting from her nostrils. Shera slowed the tightness in her throat. "I'm not...it's not what you said. I'm sorry." Her voice cracked. It was too dark for either of them to tell that the burning tears that streaked her face were tainted black.

"Sorry for what?" Cid softened his tone. "Sorry I'm an asshole? That I'm probably fuckin' up your visit?"

Shera took a very steady breath. She wiped her eyes on her arm. "Cid, I still want you here with me. Can you do me a favor?"

"Yeah…"

"I'll have to go into town after tomorrow to meet someone at the main hall." Shera sniffed. "It's...it's why I'm here, but I don't think I can do it. I'm so _scared_, and I've been trying not to be." She tried to steady her exhale, but it shook with her shiver.

"Shera...what's going on?" Cid's face had tensed. Did he need to be her backup? Bring a knife? A gun? He was so goddamn confused.

How does one explain facing one of their greatest fears? Shera was more than afraid, she was terrified. What on Gaia did they want from her? Why all of a sudden? Why when she thought she could be totally well in life again? _They had done enough._ What else could they possibly do? Pure hatred seized her throat and a few more burning tears fell from her eyes. Her stomach was twisting almost painfully and the smear of black on the back of her hand rose to an agitated welt.

"I don't know what to do, Cid. _Help me._"

Cid's blond brows bowed high above the deep concern in his eyes. He pulled Shera in by her shoulders and pressed her against his chest. "It's gonna be alright, Sher. I've got your back." Whatever it was that was going on.

"Do you promise? You don't have to do anything. I just...my mother won't go anywhere near them. They can't go anywhere near her."

"I promise. That's what ya got me for." The warm kiss Cid gifted her between the eyes tamed the anxiousness that was burning holes in her stomach lining and quickening her heart rate. "I ah, I love you, you know. S'the least I can do for how many years you've put up with all my bullshit. You've got shit of your own to deal with, n' that's alright, alright?"

Shera readjusted her head beneath Cid's chin. She took in his scent from his shoulder and willed herself to be at ease. She mumbled something incoherent to him. More words he didn't grow up learning.

"What's that mean?"

"It means _I love you, too._"

* * *

"Nah, I ain't seen Cloud at all." Cid's cell phone was wedged between his shoulder and his ear. His other hand was preoccupied with rubbing the full round of Shera's hips while she slept beside him. "Ain't seen ol' pretty boy since the gang split, actually." He could hear Tifa's sigh through the speaker. "Somethin' going on?"

"He's not around much. I think he's hiding from me."

"Damn. What's he hiding for? You spook him er' what?"

"Haha. Very funny." A small smile entered her tone. "Cid, I think...I think Cloud is sick. With the stigma. He said he was going searching, but I think he's forgotten what he's searching for."

"Stigma...the sickness in Midgar's gotten pretty bad, right?" Cid could hear Shera's mother stirring downstairs. The twinkle of a cat's bell was in tune with the desperate scratching at the closed bedroom door.

"Mm hm. Nobody knows how to contain it. Some are dying. People are still managing to carry on are wondering the streets dripping in black."

"Black? Doesn't sound too pretty. You stay safe, y'hear? I won't be away from Rocket too much longer. Shera n' I are headin' back in the next two days er so."

"You guys be careful, too. How are you and Ms. Shera, anyway?" Marlene's voice mixed with the whir of a washing machine in the background of Tifa's end of the cell phone call.

"Pretty alright. Shera's taking a beating, though. Been havin' to deal with some personal stuff while she's here in Palm Cove." Cid held in his yawn. His knuckles kneaded the softness of Shera's waist. "Wants me to help her out so…"

"Awww," Tifa's voice had softened considerably "look at you two. When are you going to pop the question, old man?"

"Ah, fuck…" Cid ran a hand through his bedhead "I don't know. Jus' waitin' for the right time. I love er', but I don't have the cash for jack shit right now. Plus, she's been steppin' out on her own. Movin' up, y'know? I don't want to dump it on her while things are changing."

"Sounds like you aren't quite ready either."

"Listen," he peeked over Shera's side just to be positive she was sleeping "when the new ship is done, I'm namin' it after her. I wanna get down on one ah these piece of shit knees on the deck, and present a decent ring."

"That's actually... really romantic of you, Cid." Tifa sounded genuinely surprised. "Is that really the only thing stopping you?"

"Er, sorta. Ship ain't done yet. Got a couple of sections to hammer in with the production crew when I get back, and uh...ain't got any fuel, so there's that bump in the road, too."

"I know you'll figure it out. Take care Capn'! I have to finishing cleaning up for tonight."

"Hope so. Smell ya later." Cid tossed his cell phone aside. The scratching at Shera's bedroom door was growing louder. Somehow, Chai had conquered the stairs and was crying out for access. Without waking his partner, the Captian rolled out of bed and dragged his feet to the door. The cat's head poked through the crack, and when it was opened wider, er, the _rest_ of him shimmied in after. He rubbed himself against Cid's ankles.

"Kai? Chai? Is that your name?" Cid crouched down to scratch behind his ears. He figured the furry pin cushion just wanted some attention. "You comin' in here for Shera, huh?" He pressed his arm beneath the feline's pudgy belly and lifted him from the floor.

"Be careful. He has arthritis in his joints." Shera's sleep grogged voice warned Cid when he turned. She had sat up on the bed and rubbed the chalkiness of last night's tears from her cheeks. A frown met the inky smudging on her arm. She stared at it; trying to make sense of what it was. She wasn't wearing mascara when she went to bed. What in the world _was_ this?

"It's alright. I've got em'." Cid placed Chai down in her lap and met her eyes with the exact same confusion. He hadn't seen all the stains with her head tucked in her pillow. A warm, calloused palm cupped Shera's cheek. The pad of Cid's thumb brushed thick clumping of the black liquid at her tear ducts. The room was coldly quiet; filled with nothing but the tintinnabulation of Chai's bell.

"Cid? What's wrong?" Shera's long lashes fluttered. She raised her other wrist to better clear her vision.

The Captain tugged her hand from her face._ Dripping in black._ Realization banished his heart to the very pit of his stomach. "Shera, it's not...I don't think...it ain't a stain." Maybe he was jumping to conclusions. He hoped he was wrong. God, he hoped.

Breakfast was quiet and stiff. Shera didn't eat, and couldn't be bothered to give Chai the attention he was begging for under the table. It was too early for her to feel so...depressed. Truly, utterly depressed. She was commanded to face her fears. She was tired. She was terrified. She was _sick_. What were you even supposed to do if you have the stigma? There was no treatment.

Eventually, Shera stopped pecking around her plate, wrapped up her generally untouched food, and shoved it somewhere in the fridge. Her mother was distant in the living room. She sat criss crossed on the floor, refurbishing a computer for a client. Parts and tools were strewn all over the carpet. She was far from finished with her work, and wouldn't be for quite some time. "Sheraton." She cleared her throat; taking a pair of tweezers from behind her ear. "There's a net tangled up in one of the banana trees. Why don't you take it and show Captain Highwind the beach?"

"The tree over the porch?" Shera jadedly washed her hands in the kitchen sink. Cid had consumed most of his food, and preoccupied Chai with morsels since Shera wasn't in the mood to entertain him. He seemed stricken with nervousness. Not on his face. It was deeply set in the Captain's eyes.

"Yes. I have some work to do here. Wouldn't want to keep either of you cooped up when the weather is nice." Ms. Joules held the handle of an allen wrench between her teeth.

"I'm going to go and grab it then." Shera mumbled. "Meet me outside?" She smiled, but Cid wasn't reassured by it. He knew a genuine smile from the love his life, and that certainly wasn't it.

"Be there in a sec." The legs of his chair scuffed the floor while he pushed back and stood. Cid avoided stepping on Chai's tail and placed his empty plate in the sink. When his boots were strapped on, he slipped out the front door and pressed it closed behind him. His eyes scanned the weather worn deck, the clumping of vines around the trees, and then the stairs. Where the hell'd she go?

"Shera?" Cid took a box of cigarettes from his pants pocket. He rummaged around in another for a lighter.

"Up here. Catch!"

"Woah!" Death by bananas? Shera tossed down a bundle and Cid caught them just in time. She had her long legs wrapped around the top portion of the tree, and was now working her way down. The fishing net her mother had been speaking of was draped over her arm. "Is that where you get your grip from?" He placed the fruit down on a porch bench.

Shera leapt down and swatted him with a slight blush. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Y'know how many times you've almost suffocated me?"

The color in her ears darkened. "There's a good place to cast a net far off from the busier sections of the beach. I can show you how to use a net, if you'd like." Shera expanded her cheeks, and expelled the air with a wary gaze down the side of the cove cliffs. Fluttering wings of colorful island birds were rustling the tree tops. Shera held a hand to her forehead to shield her sad eyes from the morning light.

"Don't see why not." He slipped a cigarette out of the box by the filter, and then lit it after wedging it between his lips. "I'm shit at fishing, though."

"Believe me, I know."

The hike down from the house to the beach was just as quiet and stale as breakfast. Cid followed his partner down a new path to the bottom. She wound by memory through different sets of stone pathing and trails worn down by repetitious steps. They took a right through low hanging trees, avoided snags of thorns and spider webs, and came across a damp section of wooden piers. The sand sank under Cid's boots when they made their way to a hidden section of shore. He crouched to smother his cigarette in the warm grains.

Shera was stationary while she had taken the lead. He could still catch the sadness in her eyes; the inward thinking that tensed her brow. Cid kept waiting for more black to trickle from those pretty eyes. Not waiting exactly. It was paranoia more than anticipation. There was nothing for the moment, though. Just the same circles that were growing a little darker, and the same irremovable stain on the back of her right hand. His eyes lingered there, then flowed down to her bare legs after her fingers became busy unraveling the net.

"Woman...where the hell are your shoes?"

"Back at the house." Shera pursed her lips. She slid her yellow band from her hair and looped it around her wrist. She twisted here and there on the net. When she was sure the numerous knots were secure, she placed the twine down and began to remove her t-shirt and shorts.

"Coulda stepped on somethin' nasty." For a moment, Cid thought Shera was stripping down to her birthday suit. Her clothes were folded up on a washed up log. To his slight disappointment, she was wearing her yellow, polka dot two piece beneath.

"I'm quick on my feet. Used to run out without shoes all the time." She paced up and down the shore line; searching for something. When Shera found what she was looking for, she dipped her toes in the water. It was chilly, but she knew it would be.

"What do you mean _used_ to. You're the queen of ant bites on the ankles. What you got against shoes, huh?" Cid dipped down to pull his boots off. He set them down on the log beside Shera's folded clothes.

"Nothing. " Shera looked over her shoulder. "I can feel the ground better when I'm bare foot. Are you coming to watch, Captain?" She licked flecks of salt water from her full lips. She had walked out far enough that the lulling tide rose to her waist.

"Watch what?" Shera trot around a sun kissed beach in a skimpy little bikini was the highlight of Cid's whole year.

"The net, Cid..."

* * *

The fish just weren't gathering today. Shera wrangled a handful out of the tide. None were big enough to keep. Cid tried his hand, but it was already well established that he didn't have nearly as much luck. He trapped one or two, and an urchin if you count his accidental discoveries in underwater footing.

With the passing of the afternoon, the tide became unmanageable. Shera seated herself up on driftwood. She pulled her knees up close to her front and wrapped her arms around her wet legs. Her eyes were cast out blankly over the horizon. "I don't want to go." She expelled a horse-like sputter, then hid her face in her knees.

"Into town?" Cid lit another cigarette. He was already seated in the sand; having given up way before she did.

"I don't know what to do at all." Shera raised her head and her hand. "I don't know what to expect. My mother doesn't want to talk about it. It's why she's working. I feel like I'm not really here to visit her. I'm here to do her a favor."She winced. That was a horrible thought. She shouldn't have said it aloud. Shera clamped one hand over the other and squeezed. "And I...I don't know what to do about this either. I hate not knowing."

Cid's fingers brushed her ankle. He gave his partner's leg a firm pat from where he sat. "I'll tell you what's gonna happen." He took a drag from his cigarette and blew the exhaust from his nostrils. _"You're gonna be fine, Shera." _Simple words continued to supply her immense comfort. Part of it had been comfort for himself.

"You've got my back?"

"Always, darlin'. You've always had mine. But,"

"But what?" Shera glanced down at him. She lowered both of her legs.

"Kinda wish I knew what was goin' on with you and yer' Mama, and this other person you're so worked up about. I mean, I know what's going on with you and the whole…" Cid motioned to the stigma on her hand "that."

"I'll let you know one day. When I'm ready. Is that okay?" Shera scooted down to the sand. She unfolded her clothes and began to place them back on.

"That's okay." Cid scratched the stubble of his chin. He pulled his cigarette from his mouth and tapped away a clump of fresh ash. "I'd ask you if you'd wanna hit the town fer' somethin' to drink, but you ain't got your fuckin' shoes on."

"Nobody will care."

"Shera, you're a goddamn savage."

There he was again. Making her laugh.

* * *

They journeyed back up to the house in the evening with full stomachs, which was good, because Ms. Joules hadn't cooked anything for supper. The floor where she had been working had been vacuumed, and the computer parts organized and placed away in another room. The light beneath her bedroom door was on along with a distant bedroom television. She wasn't going to talk. She didn't have to go tomorrow, and she still felt the need to hide.

"She goin' to sleep?" Cid was reentering the house after dumping all of the sand out of his boots outside. Shera locked the doors behind him and switched on the ceiling lights. They twinkled, and casted a gentle glow over the darkened living room and kitchen.

"Probably. She goes to bed early when she doesn't feel well." Probably guilty. Shera didn't think to pester her.

A shower this time instead of a bath followed changing out Chai's water bowl, throwing clothes in the wash, and tip-toeing up the stairs. Nervousness was rising in Shera as the day was officially coming to a close. She laid in bed and tried to relax, but found that she absolutely couldn't. Self doubt filled her ears like the hollowness of a rasping conch shell. She stared up at the ceiling; focusing on the star stickers there, trying desperately to grab on to something so she didn't drown.

The other end of the bed sank under Cid's weight. Her strained attention left the ceiling. He was slightly damp and smelled of her soap. Her partner was scanning her face, her shivering, lingering on her hand. Cid's palm found her stomach and he gave it a very generous rub. Something like a groan surfaced from her throat. He stopped.

"Cid?" Shera's voice was shy in the dark.

"Yeah?"

"Can you do me another favor?" Shera closed her eyes and licked dryness from her lips. She guided the hand on her stomach beneath her night top, to press the hot texture of his touch to her prickling skin.

"What do you need…?"He lifted her top by the end, tugged it up, and then pulled it over her head. Cid crawled over her bare body. He felt like he already knew what she needed.

"Do you mind being out of breath for a little while?" Shera nibbled the corner of her mouth. His facial hair roughly brushed in contrast with the softness of his lips. He began a trail of decadent kisses between the fullness of her bust. They were wet and hot by the time they were gifted below her navel.

Cid didn't have to answer. He guided Shera's thighs apart and lowered his head to kiss. He sampled the suppleness of her lips and folds. A hot, generous tongue laved until her opening was slick. Cid paid special attention to her clit. He continuously massaged until the plump, jutting nub was swollen and stiff enough to suckle.

"A_h_."Breathy. Hot enough to fog her glasses.

"Almost there..."

One finger prodded beneath a preoccupied mouth. A second slipped in after and joined the first in a slow, rhythmic curl. Shera responded to his precision with throaty praise and an arched back. _"Captain._"She tossed her head as far as it would go like the nymph she was and came with a shudder.

"Say it again for me?" His job was far from done. Cid turned Shera on her belly and pressed a pillow beneath her hips because she was certainly going to need the cushion.

She was snoring by the time he toweled her down and twisted off the moon light.

* * *

This was it. The skin of Shera's shoulders were cooled in the shadow of Palm Cove Town Hall. She'd been here many times when she was younger; following her mother through countless meetings, filings, and other ordeals she didn't understand until she was much older. The building was old, weather worn, and maybe one or two stories tall, but it loomed over her like a towering scraper. She squinted and gave the firm hand she was holding a tight squeeze.

"This it?" Cid trotted with her up the steps.

Shera didn't respond. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her tear ducts. The sheet was dotted in tiny black stains. Her breathing grew shallow past the front doors to the desk. "_I'm here for a partitioned meeting…_" She mumbled to the ratchety little woman managing the phone.

"_With who and what time?_" She smacked her lips and blew a large, minty, blue bubble.

"Um…" Shera tugged another paper from her pocket. She could feel Cid noisily peering over her shoulder. "_The original meeting is under _Yolanda Joules and...Bailee Ampere. _I'm _Shera Joules_, daughter. The meeting is at ten twenty._"

"Ahhh, _just take the first room down the hall._" She blew another bubble and went right back to answering the phone. Shera signed her name over a clip board with a sigh.

"What was that all about?" Cid moved to follow her, but she stopped him.

"She was just telling me where to go. I don't think it will take too long. Could you wait here, please?"

"...alright." Cid awkwardly rubbed the hair along the back of this neck. "You sure? I mean…" He was apprehensive. Shera looked so damn nervous. It was making him nervous for her. Who the hell was Bailee Ampere?

"I'm sure. I'm just going to be down the hall, Cid." One last pat in assurance, and Shera stepped off on her own.

Her heart beat ratatated in her ears and reverberated over her senses. Shera left Cid to take a seat near the front desk. The faux tropical office plants were glaring her down in her march to the end of the meeting rooms hall. She double checked the door. It must have been the right one. An officer was meandering outside; coffee pressed to his lips. He asked Shera who she was, and when she told him her full name, and flashed her identification card, he allowed her to walk inside. This was it. This was what had been filling her heart with dread for years.

She took a very slow seat, not knowing at all how this would go. She stuffed her tissue back in her pants pockets. Shera's head was still lowered. She could feel the presence of the person she was summoned by watching her on the other side of the blocked off table. Mustering what little courage she had left, Shera lifted her head, and her eyes to gaze upon her biological father's face in person for the very first time.

Greying auburn hair, a soft jaw, and thick brows. He was a study, but feminine looking man. Bandages had been wound all the way down his neck and disappeared beneath his shirt. Bailee sat perfectly still, and Shera willed herself to look in his eyes. Hazel. She noticed his face was tense, as if he was just afraid as she was. Shera wasn't sure why, but it irritated her.

"What do you want…?" She knew he didn't speak the same language a majority of the island did. Bailee was a mainlander. He was only visiting for school study when he met Ms. Joules.

"I just wanted to see you for myself." His voice was baritone and steady despite how his open souled eyes gave him away.

"Six years in prison, but it has been all the years of my life so far that you've been silent. Why do you want to see me _now_?" The edges of Shera's lips quivered.

He stared off to the side of the partition. His thoughts were hollow and turned the crackling color of his eyes dark and heavy. "If I don't now, I never will. I didn't...I don't want to go on not knowing your face."

"Is that really all you have to say to me?" Shera squared her shoulders. Her jaw ached with the scraping of her molars on the inside of her mouth.

Bailee's lips folded into a cowardly line. He brushed beneath his nose with a trembling knuckle. Pale grey moisture was collecting in the corners of his eyes. He shook his head. He was out of words.

_Why was he crying? _Shera's expression twisted into a fierce scowl. Her anger was bubbling beneath her skin. It chucked all of her previous nervousness right out the window. This wasn't fair. "You really don't have anything else to say to me?!" She ripped her glasses from her face and tossed them aside on the partition table top. Her teeth were bared; voice amplified so much that it was on the verge of a scream."You could at least tell me you were sorry! You could at least be a half way decent human being and beg for my mother's forgiveness! You could have acknowledged me earlier!"

"Shera…" He was testing out her name. Bailee was not accustomed to it on his tongue.

"No, don't call me!" Shera snapped. "You have no idea what it feels like to be guilty that you exist. To feel like you torment the person you love because you're a reminder of something _evil._" The tears began to fall. Her heart pounded like a piston, sparked, and burned. She was so angry. She was going to blow a gasket. "Half of my life I thought she couldn't stand _me_. All she sees is _you_." Ink dribbled down Shera's cheeks. She sucked in a damp, quivering breath.

His eyes were glassy on the other side. The strain under the bandages around his neck grew taut. One dabble of black leaked from an eye. Slowly, soundlessly, Bailee unwrapped the gauze to reveal the large blotches of stigma that had consumed his throat. He was hard of talking. "Neither of you…" he thickly swallowed and his adam's apple bobbed beneath the tainted skin of his neck "have to forgive me. I just wanted to see you. I'm sorry I stole her ability to trust...Sorry." He mouthed.

"I could hate you. I really could." Shera was placing her glasses back on her nose after sopping up the moisture. "But I'm going to do all three of us a favor." She blew out a soggy exhale through her nose. "I'm going to forgive you, for her and for me, and I'm going to move on with my life." Shera's chair scuffed the floor behind her. She stood with all of her dignity, and pressed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I'm done feeling guilty for everyone." Stray pieces of hair were pushed back into the band of her ponytail. "I'll speak with Yolanda before my vacation is over. I hope you get well soon. Have a nice day." Exhausted, and shivering with remnants of adrenaline, Shera left.

She leaned on Cid's shoulder all the way through the rest of their stay. All the way home. All the way through the struggle of remaining optimistic, even though the attacks told her to feel otherwise. Her heart had changed. Just in time. Shera could hide her stigma, but not her confidence. Maybe now she was truly breathing again. Maybe she hadn't really been breathing before.

* * *

Her pupils were dilated into pained, cat-like slits; irises drenched in a foreign Mako green. She'd been fighting it off with all her own, and Cid's might for months. The strength and encouragement her husband had given her was running thin and could no longer be enough. When he came back to her in Rocket Town after leaving to aid Cloud in Edge, he was running.

Aerith. Bless her heart where ever she was.

Cid dunked her in that goddamn holy pool. The crystal clear water soaked her from the tips of her toes, to the very ends of her hair. She sputtered when she broke the surface, finding the purest form of relief in existence on Cid's face. Cleansed hands. A renewed heart.

She closed her eyes from the kaleidoscope of colors that dotted the floor through cracked cathedral glass. Hues of blue and purples tinted her eyelids and sea foam was bubbling around her cheeks. The sky clear, and the warmth from the sun gentle. Cid's voice was muffled behind the whispering of a low tide.

It was like a second baptism.


End file.
